The Runaway
by Ramzes
Summary: Percy's arrival really changed Poseidon's life. In more than one way. He's now officially abandoned.
1. Meeting Bess

_Disclaimer: You think I own Percy Jackson? Err – come again?_

The Runaway

James Montgomery met her by chance. Sure, for a while he'd been hearing the sounds of door opening and closing, he had seen the windows being wide open, the faint sounds of music from the flat next to his, but he had never found the time to introduce himself to his new neighbour – his work schedule of eighty hours a week did not leave him much time for socializing.

Now he regretted it. She was gorgeous, magnificent, painfully beautiful – even more so than the movie stars he worked for. Her hair was dark and shiny, her face impossibly perfect, her eyes the bluest he had ever seen. To match her head, her figure was as voluptuous as they come. She was either born under a lucky star, or making a whole team of plastic surgeons very, very happy indeed.

James realized he was staring at her open-mouthed and quickly checked himself. "Hi," he said, hoping that he sounded like a well-mannered man and not an infatuated teenager. "I'm James Montgomery, your neighbour."

"Hello," she answered in a deep voice. "I thought that might be the case," she smiled, "seeing you standing at the door and so on – "

"Ah yes," he remembered. "Listen, I've got to go, but maybe I could see you this evening? I mean, getting to know each other and so on – "

She looked surprised. Why did she look surprised? With this face and body, she surely received such offers each morning, noon and evening, every day.

She smiled again. "Of course," she said, "I'll be happy to."

"Then I'll be there at eight to take you out."

"Good," she agreed and entered her flat.

"Wait!" James cried, while he was locking his own door. "What's your name?"

She looked at him. "Bess Shore," she said.

James left for work, feeling that eight o'clock couldn't come soon enough.

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He wanted to take her to a fancy coastal restaurant, but she preferred something more inland. Fortunately, James knew all good places – it was a tradition for a successfully divorced woman to have a lunch with her lawyer after the divorce was a fact, so he knew where to bring the extraordinary Bess Shore.

"So," he asked, "what do you do for a living?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "This and that," she answered and then, clearly willing to change the topic, she asked, "What about you?"

"I'm a lawyer," he answered. "I specialize in divorces."

"Oh." Bess looked bewildered. She studied his strong face, blond hair and trimmed body with a renewed interest, as if she were examining some strange animal. She seemed fascinated. "The place where I grew up, there is no such thing as divorce. You should tell me more about it!"

Now, it was his turn to shrug, but she seemed to really be waiting for an answer, so he said, "Well, I specialize in the cases of women married to rich and influential husbands. I'm trying to give them a fair chance in the separation."

Her fascination grew. "Really?" she all but squealed.

He blinked, a little taken aback by her enthusiasm. Surely she must have heard about the divorces of rich and famous? It was a common knowledge nowadays that separation often turned out to be a very costly pleasure.

"I feel for these women," Bess said, her eyes flashing a hint of anger. "It's terrible to be completely dependent on someone with power and feel helpless, while he does whatever he pleases."

_She must be a trophy wife_, James thought, _or must have been_. Unfortunately, there was no way that he offered his professional help. It would be incredibly rude of him to speculate on such private matters on their first meeting that he really hoped to turn into a date. He couldn't understand her husband, though. Surely it should be enough for him to stare into her eyes and be in her company? Surely that should be enough for every man on this planet. Unfortunately, he had met with too many women like her and he knew the signs. Her husband not only held the purse but he had affairs, too. _The idiot_, James thought.

"So," he said, "what are you doing in California?"

She sipped of her wine. "Oh I decided to travel," she answered. "I wanted to clear my head and decide what I want to do with my life."

He started to give a supporting answer, but his words were drowned in the terrible roar of the ocean – the ocean that was two miles from them. The waves must be terrible, to produce such a noise.

The sea went on for a few minutes. "Christ," James said when he was finally able to hear his own voice again, "that storm must be a bad one. Thanks God that you didn't want to go by the shore."

"Yes, it's a bad one," Bess agreed. Her face had paled slightly and James patted her hand reassuringly. At first, she stared at his fingers as if they belonged to an alien or something but then relaxed, clearly enjoying the contact.

"It's been going on for more than a year," James said. "And it keeps worsening. The sea is merciless. Poseidon must be very angry at something," he joked.

"Yes," Bess agreed, "I suppose he is. Now, what should I order?" she added, reading through the menu.

She was cheerful and charming, enjoying her new neighbour's company and even practicing her newly acquainted skills in flirting. She liked his intelligence, his sense of humor, his polite manners. She liked everything about him. And she was happy.

But later in the night, alone in her flat, she stood by the open window and listened with a sinking heart at the terrible clash of the distant waves – the song of anger and fury and beneath, an undertone of hurt and despair. Never before had the sound of the waves given her such a great sadness.

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_A few days later…_

"Six hundredth floor," Poseidon barked, although he knew that the guard at the front desk knew that this floor was the only one that he was interested in. By the way, the gut didn't say so. In fact, he nodded and said, "Yes, Lord. Of course, Lord," hoping that he won't give cause to the Sea God to show him his horrifying trident.

Poseidon assumed his true godly form as he stepped out of the elevator and took the main road in a few impatient strides. The nymphs who happened to be on his way quickly retreated, but he stopped one of them as soon as he saw that the throne room was empty. "I need an audience with Hera," he barked.

The girl gave him a terrified look, but one of her sisters came to her aid. "With all respect to you, Lord, it's not possible. Lady Hera does not see anyone unannounced."

"She will see me," Poseidon growled.

The poor girls looked unhappy, terrified and thorn, trying to determine whether they preferred Poseidon's anger to Hera's, or the other way round.

The arrival of the most important goddess on Olympus saved them from actually having to make a choice.

"Now, now," Hera scolded. "What are you doing to these poor girls, trying to scare them to death? Is this some new fashion, or what? If there is anything I truly dislike, it's the lack of manners and you, brother, know it well."

Poseidon had neither time not patience for his sister's games. "Where is she, Hera?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he finally lost the last bits of control. "I know that you know!" he bellowed. "_Where has she gone_?"


	2. A Royal Visit

_Disclaimer: Same old one._

**Thanks to those who reviewed. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 2

_A few weeks later…_

James checked his image in the mirror and smiled at his own concern over his looks: he was now as vain as the most famous movie stars! But then, he had the most beautiful woman in the world to impress.

The morning was coming slowly over Los Angeles. He had a hard day ahead of him, but having coffee with Bess Shore was a lovely way to start it. He had done his workout, he had taken a shower and now he was anticipated what had become the most attractive part of his morning routine. He left his apartment, locked the door and crossed the few yards that separated him from Bess' front door. He rang the doorbell, hoping that she was already up. True, they were used to having an early breakfast together, but there was always the chance that she might be still sleeping.

To his relief, the door opened almost instantly and Bess smiled at him, fully awake. "Come on," she said, "I've been waiting for you."

The coffee was already served on the table, as well as the toast and the fruit. The eggs were cooking in the pan. The kitchen was filled with the nice aroma of breakfast and even nicer scent of Bess' perfume – a scent that James did not recognize, but it reminded him of the ocean. It was strange, because Bess absolutely detested the sea and wouldn't even go to a swimming pool. Pity, because James certainly wouldn't mind seeing her in swimming suit…

"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked politely.

She shrugged. "Yes, of course. What about you?"

"I don't think I got a wink of sleep," he answered honestly and reached for the coffee, hoping that it would help him stay awake. "There ocean has gone mad. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that it has a mind of its own and it is angry."

"Nonsense," Bess said sharply. "Anyway, I'm sorry you aren't rested. You have an important case today, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," he answered, glad that she had made the effort to remember this detail about him. "It will be hard, since the husband's lawyer is a luminary in this area, but even so, I cannot see how he can win. His client's sins are too numerous and well-proved."

"And your client is a little idiot who has put up with him too long," Bess finished for him. There was a slight contempt in her voice – a self-content, maybe? James had learned by now that she was indeed experiencing troubles with her own husband.

She took the eggs off the stove and served them in a big plate. James took a bite. The dish was excellent. "Mmm, delicious," he said. "Look, don't you want to come over to my flat tonight? Then, _I _can be the one to cook something for _you_."

She hesitated. It was true that they had gone out for dinner around ten times in the last few weeks, but dining with him in his flat would be something rather different. More intimate.

"Come on, Bess, say yes."

"Yes, Bess, say yes."

They both turned at the direction of the voice that had cut into their conversation. James saw a woman emerging from the hall. She was tall and impressive, her hair silver-blond, her facial features so finely chiseled that he could only stare. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. But he had already lost his heart to the other great beauty, Bess.

"Regina," Bess said and introduced the other two to one another. "This is Regina… Chandler. James Montgomery, my neighbour."

"Nice to meet you," James said and politely stood up, waiting for her to sit down. "Are you staying here?"

The two women shared a look and Regina Chandler answered noncommittally, "For a while, maybe."

"So, you're Bess' friend?"

"Yes," she said. "You could say that we know each other for millennia."

With her here, it was impossible to talk about a private dinner for two in his flat without offending her. James sighed and resigned to his bad luck. There would be other evenings, after all. Regina Chandler wouldn't stay here forever.

"I wonder," the woman in question said fifteen minutes later, after he had left the flat, "what he saw."

"I'm not sure," Bess answered, "but I'm positive it wasn't the Queen of Olympus materializing in the kitchen out of nothing."

"I agree."

The two women hugged. "Oh I've missed you!" Hera exclaimed. "You've been gone for so long."

"Not as long as you did when Zeus had gone after that nymph." Amphitrite's mouth twitched in contempt. Why did the gods need so many affairs with mortals and immortals alike? She could never understand that. Well, she had to admit that she quite liked James Montgomery, but that was not the same thing. For one thing, she hadn't jumped into bed with him right away. For another, she wouldn't change a form to cheat him if he decided that he didn't want her after all. She wouldn't turn herself into a cow or a filly, or a swan, or anything other than herself! Of course, that wasn't entirely true either, because if she took her real, godly form, James would fall dead right away and then he wouldn't be with her anyway. "Tell me, how are things on Olympus?"

"Same old, same old." Hera suspiciously sniffed at the buns. Normally she abstained from anything else than ambrosia and nectar, but these things did smell very good, so she bit at one. "Athena and Ares are at odds with one another, Artemis is still hunting, Aphrodite is being the harlot that she is… Indeed, nothing has changed."

"I see."

There was a brief silence, and then Hera asked softly, "Why don't you simply ask me how he is, Amphitrite? I think it will be easier for both of us."

"How is he?"

"He came to see me a few weeks ago."

By her sister in-law's tone the Queen of the Sea could say that it hadn't been a nice visit. "And?"

"He threatened me. He actually had the nerve to seize my arm and yell at my face to tell him where you were."

Amphitrite gasped. "He didn't!"

"He most definitely did," Hera assured her and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Never before had I seen him so enraged." She hesitated. "And never so hurt."

Amphitrite was suddenly reminded that Hera was not only Poseidon's sister in-law. During all these millennia of their friendship, she usually had been thinking of her as her brother in-law's wife. Another wife whose husband constantly cheated on her, just like Amphitrite's own husband did. But now she was suddenly acutely aware that she was talking to Poseidon's sister.

"I never wanted to hurt him," she said defensively. That was the truth, after all. "But I thought… after the pact of the Big Three… and then he went off and sired yet another bastard! I can't stand that."

"Darling." Hera's voice was soothing. "I know."

Now Amphitrite was unable to stop herself. "Sometimes I hate him! I really, really do! All these years, hundreds, thousands of years he's been unfaithful to me and then I've been stupid enough to take him back! And he did it again. Well, this time I won't take him back! I won't!"

"Of course you won't," Hera agreed. Coming from the goddess of marriage, this statement was a bit curious. Amphitrite was so amazed that she forgot to be angry.

"I love him, Hera. Sometimes, I cannot believe I really ran and stayed away all this time. Especially when I think how much I love him."

Hera nodded. "I understand."

"He can be so kind and considerate, you know. He regards me as his Queen, but there's more to it than that. He loves me, I know he does."

Again, the Queen of the Sky nodded. There was no doubt that Poseidon loved Amphitrite, just like Zeus loved Hera. Why couldn't they remain faithful to the women they loved was a different matter. A question that Hera still had no answer to.

"About his treatment of me, I have no right to complain. He listens to my opinions. He showers me with gifts." A faint blush coloured Amphitrite's cheeks. "And he can be a fantastic lover…"

"So can Zeus."

"Why can't they just not look aside?" Amphitrite demanded.

"I have no idea – "

For a while, the two goddesses fell silent. Finally Hera said, "Father has started stirring again."

Amphitrite sighed. She was not worried, at least not too much – until the two children, Thalia Grace and Perseus Jackson, who should never have been born, became sixteen, there were many years to come – but she was not pleased to hear about Kronos creating new disruptions.

"Anything to worry about?"

"No." Hera looked out through the window. "At least, not yet."

Her expression did not change, but her fingers squeezed the cup so tightly that it broke and the coffee splashed the goddess' hand. She did not seem to notice.

Amphitrite had some idea what Hera must be thinking about. No matter how many millennia had passed, none of the five oldest Olympians would ever forget the period that they had spent as prisoners in their own father's stomach. She would never share it with anyone, even now, but she knew that Poseidon still relived the past sometimes, when he was feeling especially sad, or exhausted, or when they heard news about yet another stirring of Kronos. It was either a nightmare in the night, or just a deep sadness that she had learned to recognize over the years. In both cases, the cure was one and the same: taking him into her arms, holding him, stroking his hair, giving him time to compose himself, being with him. He had shared with her enough about his ordeal to give her some idea of what Hera must be thinking now. Was Poseidon experiencing the same fears, no matter how unreasonable, right now? The same flashes of painful memories? Was he alone and in need of comfort that he was too proud to seek from anyone else but her?

No, to Hades with him! She would not let herself be weakened by compassion towards the man who was unable to stay faithful to her for even ten years, let alone three millennia!

Hera shook her head. She was in control of herself again. "So," she said, "tell me about this handsome James Montgomery."

Amphitrite's response was drowned by the roar of the lightning that tore the otherwise clear blue sky.

"Why are you interested? Amphitrite demanded. "By the way you behave, one would say that you're the trying to play matchmaker. You're the goddess of _marriage_, Hera!"

"True." Hera smiled. "But _you_ aren't."

Amphitrite burst out laughing. "It's true, I am not. So?"

Hera gave her an impish grin. "Well, I do believe in balance in a marriage. And since Poseidon is known to have had more affairs than other gods have handkerchiefs, I'd say – " She didn't finish.

Amphitrite goggled. It sounded all wise and logical, but still… "Don't say it," she warned. "Do you want to have a mortal's death at your conscience? Remember Ixion?" Thunder. "Endymion?" Another thunder. "You think my husband will be more forgiving than yours?"

There was a brief silence, during which Amphitrite thought about the last year that she had spent in hiding, about the rage of the ocean, about her own rage at Poseidon and her reluctant love for him, about James, who was so kind to her and to whom she felt attracted… But no, it was not only a physical thing. She respected him and she thought what she was doing was deplorable: hiding her true identity from him, hiding from the sea, for Poseidon would feel her presence if she came near the ocean, exposing him to a danger for just being with her… What was she going to do? One thing was clear: she was not going back to her husband. She was not.

"You know, he specializes in divorces," she told Hera. "Divorces of the rich and famous, I mean."

"Well, we certainly rank here," her friend remarked. "Practically the whole world knows who we are!"

Amphitrite rolled her eyes. "Anyway, today he's having a case in which he hopes to win for his client half of her husband's fortune."

Hera burst out laughing. "Sorry," she said. "Just imagined suing Zeus for half the sky and Mount Olympus."

"Or Poseidon for half the ocean," Amphitrite agreed, but Hera barely heard her above the angry roar of yet another thunder.

Their laughter filled the room.


	3. Dark Thoughts

_Disclaimer: Look at the previous one._

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it means a lot.**

Chapter 3

_A few months later…_

Amphitrite had never felt like this before. She felt free, relieved from all duties that she had had to assume as a goddess and Queen of the Sea. She had a man who adored her and that meant only her. A new experience, no doubt, and certainly refreshing one. James was a handsome, attractive man, oozing confidence. That was fine, because Amphitrite would have crushed a weak man in a moment – she had no tolerance for weaklings, both human and gods.

She was quite taken with her new life. For more than three thousand years ago, since had been just one of the Nereids, she hadn't felt just like one of the crowd, insignificant and due to answer to no one. She had forgotten how much she liked it. And she liked James too. She was not sorry for her decision to be with him – he was absolutely worth it. Charming, handsome, intelligent, well-mannered and devoted to her, he was everything a woman could dream of.

Every woman.

But Amphitrite was not a woman. While her body resembled quite close that of a mortal woman and her soul was not much different, she had different view of the world, different urges, different needs. She could never be happy in the mortal world. Not for long. She was born a sea creature, a great goddess in her own right and even greater by marriage. She felt the pull so strong that sometimes it took her breath: the pull of the ocean. The pull of Poseidon.

During the day, it was easier to ignore it: she busied herself with different things, as well as with James. During the night, though, it was unbearably hard: she lay awake and listened with heavy heart at the raging sea. She was the only one who knew why it raged and swelled: not because of the strata moving beneath, as the TV explanation read. The hurricanes, the sunken ships, the dead people were not due to some geographical disturbance. _It is because of me_, she thought. _Because Poseidon is searching for me, and he can't find me, and the sea reflects his distress._ For the others, the seething ocean meant strength, and fury, and uncontrollable power; to Amphitrite, it meant helpless anger, a shout of hurt, an increasing despair. At the beginning, she had actually enjoyed knowing that she had caused her husband pain – he had been doing the same thing to her for millennia! It soothed her wounded pride to know that no matter how many affairs with mortal women he would have, she was the only one who wielded such power over him – to make him lose control, to make him suffer. Because he loved her, Amphitite had known that even when she had run away. But love had never stopped him from causing her pain.

Anyway, after a while she had stopped reveling in his distress. She did not enjoy hurting him, not really. Not for long. After all, she loved him, had loved him from the start. Yes, she had left him, but that didn't change her feelings. Listening to the sea roaring, her heart went to him. She longed to reach out and caress his face, to take away the pain, to soothe his anguish with the tenderness that he had grown to rely on. She hated the thought of Poseidon feeling rejected and desperate for more than a year, even if he had made her feel this way over and over again. And even then, he had not exactly abandoned her, he had just made her share him with other women. Hundreds of them! Anyway, she knew for sure that if he found out about James and her, he would show no more mercy to James than she had shown to Scylla, for example. Poseidon could never share what he believed was his.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" James asked, entering the room.

Amphitrite smiled. "About you," she answered almost truthfully and his face lit up. She hated doing this to him – making him think that she truly loved him. She did, indeed, love him, but not the way he loved her. The way she loved her husband. She knew that she would have never looked at him, if Poseidon was faithful to her.

"I've got a business trip to New York in three days," James said. "Do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head. She was not afraid of boarding a plane – she had no issues with Zeus and right now, Poseidon didn't have these either. Besides, what could Zeus do? Blast her out of the sky? That would be no use, since she was immortal. No, she had other reason to be reluctant. New York was too close to Mount Olympus to risk setting a foot there. The city was full of gods and satyrs who would only be too happy if they could tell Poseidon where she was. There was no doubt that he'd be generous to everyone who could help him find his wayward wife. And she could not risk anything going wrong right now. She had no think not only of James and herself, but of another being that would arrive in less than six months.

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_A month later…_

Poseidon walked in his throne room only a minute before the messenger arrived and he was not happy to see him.

"Lord Poseidon," Hermes greeted him with a small bow.

"Hermes," Poseidon said, trying to keep his voice calm and polite instead of impatient and rude, as it had recently become. "What brings you here?"

"A message, Poseidon, what else?"

Though Hermes' voice was even, the nervous squirming of the two snakes wrapped around his staff told a different tale. The message was not a nice one and Poseidon doubted that it had been delivered to Hermes in a civil way. _Good, I could use a little distraction_.

"Lord Zeus wishes to see you immediately," Hermes said.

Poseidon lifted a dark eyebrow. "Does he so? Very well, then tell him that I'll come as soon as I am done with a few matters that I must take care of."

Hermes tactfully refrained from pointing out that Poseidon didn't seem very busy. It was a dangerous thing to contradict the Sea God in his current state – he flew into a rage about everything, at virtually everyone who dared approach him. Hermes really couldn't fathom what Zeus might want to discuss with his brother – it was obvious that Poseidon was beyond any sensible argument. Only now, when she was gone, the Olympians really appreciated the calming effect that Amphitrite had had on her husband, soothing his rage and teaching him patience. But now those seemed to have vanished into thin air, just like her…

Had Amphitrite been here, she would have surely invited Hermes to stay for a while and offer him a feast; as it was, Poseidon only snapped, "Thank you for letting me know, Lord Hermes" in a voice that suggested that he was not grateful at all. Hermes quickly left the underwater palace, leaving behind the sea creatures who were desperate in their wish not to get noticed by their angry master.

For a while, Poseidon sat silently, then looked at the empty throne next to his and sighed. The situation was becoming ridiculous! For how long could a single goddess be able to hide from _him_? And just how crazy would he become if things kept going like this? He did not wish to destroy yet _another_ civilization just because of Amphitrite's unreasonable behavior, but he seriously feared that he might not be able to stop himself. And she was not here, so naturally she couldn't stop him, too. She had made an art out of it – soothing his anger, restraining his fury. Before meeting her, before being with her, he had known only the rough, chaotic power of the uncontrolled sea element, and she had showed him how much sweeter tenderness was. He had been – he still was – wild, prone to quick outbursts, too proud for his own good, but much less so than before. He had grown accustomed to her love and forgiveness, to her unwavering support, to her soothing arms and soft voice. He had become dependent on them, he had taken them for granted. And now that he had lost them, he felt utterly bereft. There was no one to subside his anger during the day; no one to hold him in the night and ease the pain and fears that he cannot reveal to anyone else but her. Just because she couldn't put up with liaisons that she knew meant nothing to him! Sure, he liked, maybe even loved some of these mortal women, but what of that? They would soon grow old and die, while she was his queen, the one he had chosen to be with him for eternity – and she just _left_ him? _You'd better pray your little escape was a memorable one, Amphitrite, _he thought_, for when you come back, there will be Tartarus to pay!_

After waiting long enough to make sure that Zeus was irritated enough, Poseidon made his way to Mount Olympus, where the deserted road and palace immediately made him realize that he had fully succeeded: the inhabitants of the sky had concealed themselves, just like their sea counterparts did every day, scared of their master's anger. He was a little disappointed, however, to see that the throne room was empty: he had hoped for a shouting match with his brother to release a bit of his fury.

"He'll be here soon."

Poseidon turned at the voice. "Hera," he said, not bothering to make a bow. For once, she didn't mind. Dressed in rich silk yellow robes, her hair immaculately done, with regal air around her, she looked distraught, nonetheless. At least, to Poseidon she did.

"You managed to enrage him well enough," Hera said lightly.

"Good," Poseidon growled. "I'll come back another time."

"Would you rather wait for him here? We can go to my living room."

_Why not?_ When she was not pissed off. Hera made a nice companion. Besides, she looked the same mess that Poseidon suspected that he looked himself. "Sure."

He raised his eyebrows, when Hera did not call the nymphs and instead filled the goblets herself and gave one of them to him. "What an honour," he said, "to be served by the Queen of Olympus herself."

"Did you hear Father's voice in your dream last night?" she suddenly asked.

Poseidon felt his blood freezing. Very carefully, he placed the goblet back on the table. "I believe so," he said neutrally. "Why, did you?"

Her lovely face paled. "He's getting stronger," she whispered. "Zeus help us, he's getting stronger."

Such displays of fear were not typical for Hera, but they happened from time to time. Poseidon reached for her hand. "It might mean nothing, Sister," he said soothingly. "His power has been rising and fading for the last three millennia."

She shook her head. "It's different," she repeated. "He _is_ getting stronger. Last night I heard him so clearly and I – I was suddenly back there again, Poseidon. A prisoner, crammed in there with the rest of you, with no knowledge, no future, no hope, no idea what it was not to live in darkness. I woke Zeus with my screams."

Poseidon didn't say anything. The experience that she was describing was so coinciding with his own nightmare from the last night… He only hoped that _he_ hadn't screamed.

"He will never succeed," he said. "We won't let it happen. Did Zeus have a dream, too?" he asked. As much as he hated it, the truth of the matter was that if Kronos was able to penetrate the minds of three or more of his children at the same time, they were up for a serious trouble.

Hera grasped the hand that was still holding her own. "Yes, but these dreams never seem to affect him as they do the rest of us. Father can't scare him so much."

Poseidon nodded. It made sense. "He's never been there," he said. "He doesn't know what it was like."

"No, he doesn't," she said with suppressed energy. "No one else can ever understand – only the five of us! Some nights I still wake up in terror even without Father's kind help."

A glance from his dark eyes told her that he, too, was haunted. At least she had Zeus to turn for comfort. Since Amphitrite's leaving, Poseidon had to bear it alone. Unconsciously, she stroked his hand. Hers was cold, but surprisingly tender. _As tender as Amphitrite's,_ Poseidon thought. _I must look thoroughly pitiful if Hera shows sympathy towards me._ All the same, he felt a little better. At least he had a sister, no matter how difficult she could be.

"First, Zeus' girl and now your boy," she said softly, too distressed to find the energy for anger. "The prophecy is starting to come through. That's what Father is feeding on. Oh why you can never restrain yourselves!"

He didn't answer. "Will you talk to Demeter?" he asked.

Hera gave a harsh laugh. "I am not sure I want to know," she said. "But of course I'll talk to her."

"And will you talk to Amphitrite for me?" he asked, his voice low.

Hera gave him a quick look. Despite her resentment and disapproval of his marital behavior, she could not have the heart to snap at him. She could see that he was really, really hurting. "Of course," she said, still holding his hand. "What do you want me to tell her?"

"Just tell her what I ask of her: that when the romance of the whole running-away-to-hide-from-her-cruel-husband thing wears off, she won't be too proud to come back. That's all."

Hera's eyes filled with tears. That was the story of her own life: always beloved, always wanted, always needed. And ultimately, always betrayed. Yet, looking at her brother's obvious misery, she could not give him the tongue-lashing that he – and Zeus – so richly deserved. She touched his cheek in a swift, reassuring gesture. "I will tell her," she promised and finally sipped at her own goblet of nectar.


	4. Eve

_Disclaimer: Nothing is mine._

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews. I didn't reply to each one individually because for a while I had no access to my PC and when I finally did, it was too late to start writing review replies for a story that most of you had probably forgotten that they had reviewed. Again, thank you. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.**

Chapter 4

_A few months later…_

"For God's sake, is she _ever_ going to stop crying?"

Amphitrite smiled and rocked the little one who was trying to make herself heard. At two weeks, Eve was a curious and energetic baby who was constantly trying to establish herself as a centre of everyone's attention. Now she firmly refused to shut up and kept on screaming her head off. Her parents had no idea what the problem was – she wasn't wet, she wasn't hungry, she was too young for colic.. and she would not refuse to be soothed.

"I'll give her a bath," Ampphitrite said and stood up, holding the child. Eve went on crying the whole time her mother left her on the bed in the nursery to prepare the bath-tub, but when Amphitrite opened a jar, the wailing stopped: the little one had caught the smell of the sea-salt that her mother was measuring before pouring it in the warm water.

"So now you're glad, aren't you?" Amphitrite asked. "I know, I know," she said. "Come on now, and be happy."

The baby gurgled when she felt the touch of the water. James, who had entered the room a moment ago, shook his head. "I've heard that babies loved their bath," he said, "but this goes beyond everything I could imagine. She looks ecstatic."

Amphitrite only smiled. That was to be expected by a daughter of a sea goddess, but she did not tell him that. He still had no idea who she was and she had no intention of informing him. He wouldn't have believed her anyway – how could he? She could have convinced him, but she didn't want to. He was not blessed with the gift – or curse – of seeing through the Mist, so he could not do much to protect Eve from the monsters who would inevitably come after her. Amphitrite had never had a half blood child before, but she had made observations that children of the most powerful gods were like magnets to monsters – they were just too strong. In a way, they _reeked_ of Olympian-ness. There was no doubt that her daughter would be one of them.

Washing his hands, James noticed the opened jar and frowned. "I am still not sure that you should pack the child in salt," he said reproachfully, going to the bath-tub.

Amphitrite waved his words off. "I know what I am doing," she said. "Look at her – does she look miserable to you?"

The question was rhetorical, since the baby was obviously happy and relaxed, without feeling even the slightest discomfort.

"Besides, I am not _packing_ her in salt. I'm just putting sea-salt – a very small amount of sea-salt – in the water before rinsing her out with clear water."

James was still not convinced. He was right for himself, of course – the very idea of making a contact between salt and a baby's skin was very dangerous and even harmful – but for this particular child it was the best way to make her healthy and strong. Amphitrite still held some hopes that he's continue her practice of soaking Eve in water with sea-salt, but that was not likely. When she left, James would inevitably bring the little one up in the way that he considered best.

There was no doubt that he adored the little girl. The room that they were now in was big and sunny, the furniture – expensive and cheerful, the toys varied from little fluffy balls to teddy bears three times Eve's size, everything was perfect. And James never got tired of watching the little girl or doing things for her. The babysitter they had hired even grumbled a little, saying that there was no need of her – the baby's parents did almost everything by themselves. She felt only like an ex-insurance or something like that.

Now she appeared at the door case, visibly embarrassed. There was no need to – her free morning was still not over. Anyway, the girl didn't like the sight that greeted her – she felt as if she was not doing the job that she was being paid for.

"I would have given her a bath, madame," she said quickly.

Amphitrite smiled at her. "I know you would, Olivia, but we wanted to do it ourselves," she said.

The young woman's eyes widened when she saw the opened jar. She did not approve her mistress' practice of putting salt into the baby's water and she had told her that. But Miss Shore had not listened. What was the woman trying to do, peel the skin off her baby's body or what? It was a crime, really it was. But Miss Shore was a strange woman in many ways=

"Would you need me now?" she asked.

Amphitrite shook her head. "No. If there is something, we're going to call you."

"Very well, then I'll go to my room," Olivia said.

"All right."

Amphitrite watched her leaving. Then, she and James started rinsing Eve with clear water. But Amphitrite's movements were mechanical. She was thinking of Olivia Sanders. It was obvious that the girl was very fond of Eve and Amphitrite did not doubt that she'd take good care of her. That put her mind at ease. Unfortunately, she could never relax around the young babysitter. In a way that only a woman could understand another woman, from the very beginning she had realized that Olivia neither liked nor trusted her. The girl had no way of knowing what it was that made her feel uneasy, but she instinctively felt that her young charge's mother was not like the other women. And that frightened her. Besides, she was _very_ fond of James.

It was strange to think that this thought gave Amphitrite no distress. She was well acquainted with jealousy, having millennia of practice with the feelings of betrayal, disappointment, helpless rage that could never be fully satisfied by getting revenge on the women she had been cheated on with. But the thought that James might like another woman gave her no distress. With the progress of her pregnancy, she had lost a great deal of her desire for him and now felt only warmth for the way he had made her feel: appreciated, loved, _unique_. She had never felt like this before: to be the only one for someone. But that did not mean that their romance could last. It couldn't. Amphitrite was immortal, forever young and beautiful; James would grow old and die very soon in comparison. His span of life was nothing more than a flicker of a candle compared to hers. Besides, she did not love him the way he loved her, she had known that from the start. He had been a lovely distraction, something dear, but temporarily. He had also been a tool for her to get even with her husband's infidelities. He had been the knight in shining armor to comfort the damsel in distress – gods, had she been distressed! But the romance of the whole run-away-thing had started to wear off. The simple truth of the matter was that she was meant for living in the ocean, for being the Queen of the Sea, to sit on the throne next to Poseidon and sleep in his bed at night – no matter whether he chose to share this bed with her or go to another woman yet again. She could not keep hiding forever. And if she didn't come back soon, she might very well cause the end of the Western civilization. Poseidon was on his way to sink it, if the reports of earthquakes, shipwrecks and hurricanes all over the world were to be believed. Her love for James had been real, but not whole-hearted and definitely not eternal. She could only wish him the best.

They wiped Eve, dressed her and put her to bed. She immediately started crying. James groaned.

"Look, I am sorry, but I really have no time," he said. "I must appear in court in less than two hours. Call Olivia to help you."

"All right," Amphitrite replied. "Good luck!"

He kissed them – first Eve and then her mother – and left.

"Good luck, James," Amphitrite repeated. She was not wishing him luck just for the suit today – she meant it for the rest of his life, for she would be gone before he came back.

She did not call Olivia. Instead, she took the baby for the crib and sat on the sofa, holding Eve against her. With her free hand, she reached out for the sea-shell that looked completely out of place in the nursery. She put it to the baby's ear and the little one calmed down almost immediately – she had heard the echo of the ocean, its whisper and roar, its breeze and storms.

"Yes, Eve," Amphitrite said softly in ancient Greek. "Yes, this is your legacy. Your love. Your passion. And this is where I will go to. I must."

She sighed. Had she known from the beginning that one day she would go back to the ocean, back to Poseidon? Yes, probably. The thought of running away and leaving them forever had looked alluring, but it was never realistic. Amphitrite's life had been predestined and built long before the world had started assuming his current shape. Her place in this world, her home, her marriage had been woven into its fundamentals. James – and Eve – were only fragile threads in it, dear as they were to her. She belonged to the gods and the sea. To Poseidon.

Eve had fallen asleep, curled up like a kitten against her mother. Amphitrite stood up and very carefully placed her back in the crib, bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Good luck to you too," she whispered and left the nursery.

* * *

**A. N. Yes, believe it or not, the tradition of bathing a baby in salty water is still living in some regions of my country. Of course, it's usually old wives and uneducated families who practice it. Some people even go so far as actually rubbing salt into their babies' skin, as if they are steaks ready for baking! They think that this practice will help the infants not to get sweaty when they grow up, can you believe it? The actual result is that the babies get dehydrated, their skin peels off, there were even deaths caused by this ridiculous tradition of mistaking babies with fish or pork. Terrifying.**


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